Barbie Girl
by WinterRepublic
Summary: I never thought I could hate someone-- something, so much... that is, until I met Barbie.


_**Disclaimer:**__If JKR knew what I was doing with her characters, she'd smash my laptop and run over it thousands of times with a car before pouring tea all over it and laughing as it smoked in its untimely demise…  
_

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**Title:** Barbie Girl

**Warnings: **Uh... angst?

**Summary:** I never thought I could hate someone-- something, so much... that is, until I met Barbie.

**A/N:** I don't own any Barbies. snort

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I always thought Hermione was pretty.

With her beautiful chestnut locks always neat and tidy. It was so shiny and soft so -- perfect. It looked like she had a colored waterfall falling about her shoulders. She could make all other girls sob with jealousy. And she didn't even have to try. Her face was like that of china. A pale natural radiance set off by the overlying beauty that only makeup could achieve.

Not that she needed it.

She had the body of a super model. You know, the ones that you always see on the front of a magazine. Heck, she looked like she'd stepped out of one of those magazines. She had the body most girls would kill for, or even hate you over.

Skinny and beautiful.

Often times I would see her just picking at her food. Sometimes she ate, but it was usually very little. Maybe it was one of her diet tricks? I knew she went to the lavatory after every meal -- after every meal she ate at. Always after meals, never before. I had forced her to eat one night. She ate, but not enough -- unless you call a spoonful of rice enough. She escaped to the loo as son as the meal was over.

I knew what she was doing.

Two days later I would meet Barbie.

We were in her room. The most beautiful doll I had ever set eyes on was sitting on her bed. She was so pretty and perfect. Slender body, perfectly shape and sized breasts, amazing hair, and undeniably beautiful face. Slender arms and perfect legs. She had a smile on her face, her cheeks always aflush.

Then it clicked.

I hate you Barbie. I hate you. Why do you exist? Barbie's a perfect girl. Guys fawn al over her, even if she isn't real. If we looked like you, would they fawn all over us too? Maybe, but then again, maybe not. You're too perfect. we'd have to be suicidal to look like you… then… that's what you drive us to do. You look at me, amusement shining in your empty eyes…

You killed her you know.

Barbie's a doctor, a mother, a nurse, an astronaut, anything -- everything. You're rich, have a big hose, the perfect friends; perfect life. But you'll always have those things, won't you? Barbie can do anything.

How are we supposed to compete with you?

I never known what you did to her until I saw for myself. You had you disgusting plastic hands in her so deep. It took at least two hours for her hair. I realize now how artificial it looked. Just like your hair. Just like Barbie. It took over twenty-five tries until her makeup looked remotely okay to herself. Her mirror was her best friend these days. How I wanted to smash it to pieces. How I wanted to smash you.

But you can't shatter plastic.

We dream. Who can deny that it's the best way of living between truth and lies? We can't stop. We have to try. We have to be like you. We need to. I wasn't supposed to be watching.

Open your eyes.

Open them. Open your eyes, please. Stop this fading away. Don't let it go. It's taking over your life. Open your eyes, see what you've become. Don't sacrifice everything -- it's not worth it. We're truly at the heart of everything.

Barbie.

I know she tried to hide it. I could still see though. I could see it no matter how hard she tried. The makeup didn't cover the dark circles anymore. She didn't sleep; it'd ruin her hair and wouldn't burn enough fat. She didn't eat anymore; fear of gaining any weight, the prospect of loosing them appealed so much more. Her body would stop responding and she was in the hospital so often, I began to think she lived there instead of our room.

I cried.

I cried because I knew that Barbie was winning. You knew this didn't you? Your ever present smile never fading; your eye knowing. You watched. You watched and laughed. I wanted to smash your pretty smiling face, but you'd only grin back at me wouldn't you? You knew what you had done.

And I hate you for it.

She was fifteen. She would be turning sixteen in the coming month. Today she wore a beautiful white dress. She was smiling softly. She wore no makeup today and her natural beauty shined. There were no dark circles gracing her face, and her hollowed cheeks held volume; a natural flush over their peaks. Her beautiful cascade of hair shone natural and right under the sun's hands.

The boy's thought her exquisite.

What they wouldn't give to have just a taste of this beauty. To be able to touch. To be able to hold. To call their own. The girls swallowed unjust jealousy. What good does it do to be jealous of Barbie? It's so unfair; the things we do to be noticed. Barbie doesn't have to. No. You're bloody perfect.

Too bloody perfect.

The only way to achieve your looks is in our dreams. When we sleep. And it's not fair. We're only noticed in our sleep, when no one's watching. You know this. This is why you're only too happy to steal the spotlight when we awake. You take back the illusion and laugh in our face.

I hold a barbie in my hands.

I hold beauty in my hands. But that's not true is it? You're as ugly as they come. I watch as they give Hermione flowers. Each flower was beautiful in their own right. Wondrous smells permeated the air around, making it sing with beauty.

Beautiful.

But you aren't are you? You smile and laugh, your dull eyes filled with amusement as we so desperately try to compete with you. You know we can't but you don't say anything. No. You watch. You watch and dig your disgusting claws deeper into us. It isn't until too late that we see how truly ugly you are. We only see it that last time we look in a mirror. The last time we see ourselves before we smash it.

I lay Barbie on her gravestone.

Yes barbie. This is what you've done. She was finally noticed. Noticed in a way not even foreseen by her own self. In a white dress-- in her casket-- on the day of her burial. You sit among real beauty, Barbie. While the flowers dry out and die, creating new life in the process, you won't. While Hermione becomes a beautiful angel in death as she was in life, you won't. You'll decay and corrode until the ugliness truly shows.

And I laugh.

And I cry.

I wish I had never met you. I wish I had never seen your perfect face. I wish you never existed. I wish you didn't have to destroy her. I wish she could have seen the beauty that I saw. That we saw. The beauty you could never achieve.

Being human.

I hate you Barbie.

I fucking hate you.

I always thought Hermione was pretty.

**Fin**

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**A/N: **This was all from Ginny's POV. I could have done it another way, but since Hermione's the only well known muggleborn, I thought why not? She would know what a barbie was.

So, tell me what you guys think. It's part of my Jillian series. The second one. The first one is Ordinary


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